Page 163 of Finch

Tears blurred Finch’s vision. “Celebrate what?” he asked.

“That you’re a dragon, Finch,” Harrison said with great kindness. “That you’re not a failure or

a source of shame.”

Nothing Finch could do could keep his tears at bay. They fell down his cheeks and plummeted

onto his thighs. One of them landed on Hugh’s forehead, which Finch promptly swept away.

How embarrassing it was to cry in front of a room full of dragons. How shameful. He’d been

raised to be the perfect servant, because he’d always been told that he would never be

anyone’s perfect lover.

Only Hugh had come around and mucked it all up.

Calvin reached out a tentative hand to touch Finch’s cheek and to his utter shame, Finch

looked into his face, which was so much like his own, and started sobbing. It was hormones.

It had to be hormones. He’d been trained to be so much better than this.

“You are no source of shame, Finch.” Calvin squeezed Finch’s shoulder, causing Finch to sob

harder than before. “I am so grateful, more than you’ll ever know, that you came to stay with

Atticus. I hope to be a part of your life, if you’ll have me. And of my grandchild’s life as well. I

can’t make up for past mistakes, but I can celebrate the future. Our future. One where we’re a

family despite the distance between us. If you’re willing, I am, too, and I would like that very

much.”

Finch ran an arm across his eyes and wished he had a tissue for his leaky nose. As if by magic,

Hugh stirred and murmured something incomprehensible, then presented Finch with a

handkerchief he produced from his back pocket. It was alarming enough that Finch began to

settle down. Hugh had been out cold—how had he known what Finch was feeling?

“There. You see?” Atticus tapped his cane on the floor several times in rapid succession. “Do

you believe in the bond now, Finch? Your dragon is responding to your emotional state even

when incapacitated. You are his, and he is yours.”

“I…” Finch’s voice faltered under the onslaught of emotion. “I’m not sure—”

“Mine,” groaned a broken voice. It came out of Hugh’s throat, but didn’t sound like him at all.

“Mine. My omega, my child, my love, my treasure, mine.”

Then, much to Finch’s surprise, Hugh began to change.

He grew at a slow but steady pace. The baggy, travel-worn suit he wore filled out, then became

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